The storekeeper waited an hour or so, but Dad did n't turn
up. When he was gone, though, Dad walked in and asked Mother what he had
said. Mother was seated on the sofa, troubled-looking.
"He must be paid by next week," she said, bursting into tears, "or the
place'll be sold over our heads."
Dad stood with his back to the fire-place, his hand locked behind him,
watching the flies swarming on the table.
Dave came in. He understood the situation at a glance. The scene was not
new to him. He sat down, leant forward, picked a straw off the flor and
twisted it round and round his finger, reflecting.
Little Bill put his head on Mother's lap, and asked for a piece of
bread...He asked a second time.
"There IS no bread, child," she said.
"But me wants some, mumma."
Dad went outside and Dave followed. They sat on their heels, their backs
to the barn, thoughtfully studying the earth.
"It's the same thing"--Dad said, reproachfully--"from one year's end to
the other...alwuz a BILL!"
"Thought last year we'd be over all this by now!" from Dave.
"So we COULD...Can NOW...It only wants that land to be taken up; and,
as I've said often and often, these cows taken----"
Dad caught sight of the storekeeper coming back, and ran into the barn.
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